


Learning Experience

by Pretentious_Procrastinator



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Baze is soft boy who doesn't realise Chirrut loves him, Chirrut hasn't been blinded yet, Coming Untouched, M/M, Masturbation, POV Baze Malbus, Voyeurism, no editing we die like men, the porn is momentarily delayed by Baze being angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-21
Updated: 2017-03-21
Packaged: 2018-10-08 15:19:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10389696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pretentious_Procrastinator/pseuds/Pretentious_Procrastinator
Summary: Over from Chirrut’s bed across the room came the noises that had woken him, quiet, stifled moans and the unmistakable sounds of Chirrut touching himself, a fast rhythm broken every so often by a moment of stillness and panting breaths, as if Chirrut was forced to halt his pace and flex his overworked arm.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheBaggins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBaggins/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Scarabs Fill My Pillow](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9622436) by [kaboomslang](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaboomslang/pseuds/kaboomslang). 



> This is birthday present for Johana!

Night had long since fallen on Jedha, the bright light of the sun replaced by the faint reflections from the planetary rings of NiJedha, falling gently to rest upon the city like the blossom from the Temple Garden trees. His eyes squeezed closed despite the shuttered darkness of the two-bed dormitory, Baze’s hand tightened where it was fisted in his bed clothes, the muscles in his hands burning from the strain. The few minutes he’d lain awake for had stretched to what seemed undeterminable hours.

Over from Chirrut’s bed across the room came the noises that had woken him, quiet, stifled moans and the unmistakable sounds of Chirrut touching himself, a fast rhythm broken every so often by a moment of stillness and panting breaths, as if Chirrut was forced to halt his pace and flex his overworked arm. Every sound was torture to Baze, the overwhelming desire to take himself in hand not quite concealing the fear that every bitten off gasp caught in Chirrut’s throat would be someone’s name, that Chirrut thought about someone whilst desperately jerking off in the night. Baze couldn't but be scared Chirrut thought about someone the same way he did about Chirrut.

It had been years now that Chirrut had been all Baze thought about as he got himself off. His high cheekbones. The pretty pout of his lips and the way they curved into his ridiculous smile. The muscle of his arms, growing larger every day, traced with lightening as his skin struggled to keep up with his growth; Baze could relate, feeling he was falling behind Chirrut with every admiring glance Chirrut received, every smug smirk the other guardian would flash when he heard tittering as he trained shirtless, every time he would turn down unsubtle offers to instead sit with Baze.

Chirrut had always been beautiful to Baze, even as a scrawny, half-feral boy straight off the streets, snarling and defensive and so very interested in the initiate who wasn’t afraid of him. The first time he’d smiled at Baze, properly, it had felt like the humming of the colossal kyber crystals the Masters would lead them down into the heart of the temple to see, and he’d felt the same sense of wonder and contentment. Over the years, Chirrut’s crystal edges had been smoothed. The jagged shards of his anger and hurt had been polished by the guardians with the same gentleness and skill with which they worked the kyber, but only enough not to cut. Chirrut was still angry, still vicious, still possessive and over-protective.

Baze had always thought the flawed crystals were the most striking.

But, when it came to Chirrut, so did everyone else it seemed. The most frustrating part was how… _blasé_ Chirrut was about it all. He would accept the flirting with a flash of his smile, always wider than his face – and gummy too, now, with the tracks of metal he’d worn for years finally being removed – that actually seemed friendly as opposed to a challenge. He even made suggestive comments of his own. But as far as Baze knew, Chirrut hadn’t actually responded seriously to anyone.

That didn’t stop Baze from worrying someone had caught Chirrut’s eye, because Force knows, Chirrut was contradictory enough that his unpredictability was the only dependable guide to how he’d react to something. Fearless Chirrut would choose this area to be shy, if only to mess with Baze.

Baze was self-aware to admit that thought was unfair. But it was hard to remain objective when Chirrut was right _there_ , barely even trying to muffle his sounds now, confident that insomniac Baze, who slept like the dead during his rare hours of sleep, was lost to the world.

He was muttering under his breath, indecipherable words and filthy curses, and Baze had to squeeze his eyes closed tighter at the breathiness of Chirrut’s voice, the keen waiting to escape his throat.

Despite himself, Baze shifted onto his other side as quietly as he could, drawn to Chirrut’s orbit like Jedha to its gas giant. Chirrut froze, the silence heavy in his stillness.

“…Baze?” His rough whisper was loud in the darkness.

Baze forced his breathing to remain deep and even, his heart pounding surely frantically enough for Chirrut to hear.

Seemingly satisfied that Baze was just shifting in his sleep, Chirrut started jerking off again, Baze only daring to open his eyes once the slick sounds resumed; they were slower this time, more measured, a determined steadiness to Chirrut’s breathing. It took a few minutes for Baze to adjust to the darkness and as more of Chirrut’s form was revealed in the soft light edging into the room from around the shutters, the more thankful Baze became for the dimness. Seeing the faint outline of Chirrut was enough to make Baze bite his lip to supress a moan. 

The pale light cast strange shadows over Chirrut, lingering against the long line of his throat. Baze couldn’t help but think about what it would like to leave his own marks along it, shades of red and purple sucked gently into his skin, as Chirrut pressed his head back into the pillow to expose more of his neck to Baze. What it would be like to stroke at his cock, Chirrut’s hands instead occupied by pulling Baze closer, encouraging the grinding movements of his hips against Chirrut’s muscled thigh with hand kneading at his ass. What it would be like to run a hand across the other guardian’s chest to play with a nipple, as Chirrut was now doing, the splay of his long fingers beautiful across the muscled expanse.

His earlier restraint quickly unravelling, Chirrut was now fucking up into his fist, hips bucking involuntarily, every breath a groan caught in his throat. Even here, Chirrut was incapable of being quiet. With each low grunt Baze felt his own hips jerk helplessly in response. Soaking through the material of his boxers, his cock felt over-sensitive, the drag of the sodden material over its head both too much and not enough.

“B…Fuck,” Chirrut’s voice was almost a shock to Baze, his muttering having subsided beneath the ebbing tide of his moans, growing louder in his throat. Chirrut was close, and despite having not touched himself, Baze could feel his own orgasm building, towering higher at the tension evident in Chirrut’s body.

“Ba… _Baze_.” His own name sounded desperate, Chirrut’s voice choked as he curled forwards, hips lifting as he came. It was too much for Baze. His cock pulsed as he peaked, biting at his pillow, hoping that Chirrut’s heavy breathing would be loud enough to cover his whimper.

Baze barely had time to come down from his orgasm before what Chirrut had said registered in his foggy mind.  He froze, not even daring to breathe. The time dragged slowly, measured by Chirrut’s unsteady breaths, before it became apparent Chirrut hadn’t seen him watching, hadn’t panicked at shaking of Baze’s limbs and the wet patch at the front of his pyjamas. Which meant, that Chirrut was calling his name for a different reason.

Although Baze had been holding his breath, he now felt he was physically incapable of inhaling, all the air sucked out of his reach by the startling realisation that had just hit him, harder even than Chirrut did when they sparred. Chirrut had been moaning his name. Moaning it, jerking off with his name on his lips. Despite his sensitivity, his dick gave a valiant twitch.

All this time, Baze had been feeling guilty, for nothing. Hours spent agonising over Chirrut’s easy trust in him even as he pictured him smile wrapped around his cock, hours spent worrying that Chirrut pictured another in his fantasies, for nothing. He didn’t know exactly what it was he felt for Chirrut. He knew he loved him, had known it for years, deep-set in his very bones, inscribed on him even more permanently than his faith. But he didn’t know when that love had changed from friendship, and if there was one thing that scared Baze, it was not knowing.

Learning had always been his solace, scrolls and datapads his companions when others were too loud, too intense. Strangely, Chirrut had always been the exception to that rule. For all his impatience, Chirrut was always prepared to wait for Baze, to explore with him.

Despite the uncomfortable dampness of his underwear and bed, Baze rolled over and closed his eyes with a smile. Maybe, he could surprise Chirrut for once. Maybe, he could be the one to lead them on some foolish adventure this time. As long as they were together.

 


End file.
